Only for a night
by IDair
Summary: Peter has always asked her too much. Oneshot. Kinda angtsy.


**Title:** Only for a night

 **Summary:** Peter has always asked her too much.

 **Timeline:** Whenever you want in AUland where Peter is not a father, I guess.

 **Main characters:** Peter Pan, Wendy Darling

 **Disclaimer:** You think I own OUAT? You wish I did! No, really, just kidding. We know I don't own it.

 **This is really tiny thing but I had some inspiration, so...**

* * *

"Can't you forget it?"

His question is a low breath, raw and gentle at the same time.

An almost imploring, _hopeful_ edge just at the end of it.

Just a mirror of the contradiction he will always show her, when they're alone, just the two of them.

Strong arms circle her waist as his nose brush against her jaw. The blow of his breath against her skin sends a shiver down her back.

His mouth presses against her cheek, then his lips move down slowly, to kiss her neck.

Wendy tilts her head only out of reflex to give him better access.

"Just for a night… just for _tonight_."

His hands stroke the small of her back trough the lightness of her nightgown.

Gentle, caressing, _loving_ even.

Oh, how _well_ he plays pretend.

"Wendy... _please_ "

 _Please._

She hears the pleading off his lips.

 _Please._

Sweet, sweet pleading.

But he's playing. He's playing _her_. Like he did times and times before.

And he's playing her _s_ _o_ well.

Lips warm, soft move against her skin.

So _good._

She has to gasp for breath.

Oh, how good he is a playing pretend.

When she can't.

She _can't_.

She's nothing like him.

No matter how much she might dirty her dress with mud, how much she could stain her skin with blood, how much she could sharp her bones, her spine, her limbs, how much she could stone her eyes and poison her mouth.

She's _nothing_ like him.

"I need this…" An open, warm palm slides from her back. Fingertips trace the swell of her hip beneath the dress."I need _you"_ the word reverberates against her skin.

But she feels it echoing in her _soul_.

 _I need you._

Peter kisses a spot under her ear.

 _I need you._

Wendy shuts her eyes tightly and bites her lip, hard, as he pulls her flush against the sturdiness of his chest, before she can think of how much _she_ needs it, _she_ needs him.

Of how much she wants to kiss his mouth, run her tongue across his lips and _taste_ him.

His fingers struggle with her collar, move the fabric aside, exposing more of her skin, freeing the point where her neck meet her shoulders.

He bites her.

His tongue swirls, hot and wet over her flesh, and he nips at her already reddening skin.

She's gonna have a mark. But that's hardly the first time.

She digs one of her hand into the silkiness of his hair, as her neck arches towards his mouth.

Her other hand tighten on the raspy material of his shirt, then grip his shoulders for support, because she _knows_ she can't stand, in her weakly knees, without shaking.

His mouth trails a path up her neck again, reaching her jawline, inches from her mouth.

Wendy's fingers clenches on his locks.

She parts her lips, letting out a whimpering sound, the one she knows he _delights_ in, just to letting him _b_ _elieve_ he's winning.

Because certainly _she_ isn't.

She can't win.

She looses.

She _always_ looses.

But that's the only revenge she'll have.

'Cause she's nothing like him, but Neverland touched and marked everything and she's been there _too_ long to wear white as innocently as before.

She's been with _him_ too long not to know how deliciously sweet revenge tastes. Even if only for a moment.

* * *

 _Can_ _'t_ _you forget it?_

Can she?

Can she forget it, the way his lips curled up- he smirked, he _bloody_ smirked-when he crashed her heart into his hand and watched as the dust slipped trough his fingers?

Can she forget it, the way he sent his shadow to stole away her little brothers? The way he stole away Baelfire? The way he was ready to destroy her family? The way he _had_ destroyed it, destroyed _her_?

Can she forget it, the way not only he'd locked her up, but he'd built a cage for her slowly, sticks after sticks, and then trapped her inside and she was not able to see the sky for what it felt like a _hundred_ years?

Can she forget it, that he cannot love, that he is _not_ able to? And every time he had tried- for her, for _her_ only- he failed, failed, _failed_?

She can hear his voice in her head, smuggest as ever, speaking his favorite catchphrase.

And she would laugh. Tears in her eyes, she would laugh hysterically, unstoppable.

Peter Pan _never_ fails.

* * *

Can she forget _all_ of that?

Can she forget all of that, just for one night?

When she's stuck in the one realm where time doesn't flow, doesn't matter in the slightest?

 _Just for tonight._

A night.

How long can a night feel, compared to what she has?

 _Eternity._

(Not that she's ever wished for that.)

How long does a night feel?

The time of one adventure.

(That, a little fairy-tale girl did wish for.)

(And wasn't that _her_?)

The time of an adventure.

That's how long a night feels.

But for her, it hadn't been that.

For her, it had been a _lifetime_.

* * *

 _Can you forget?_

 _Can you forgive?_

She can't be his for a night, because she had been, and it never had been just _a_ night.

It had been a endless, sleepless _twilight_.

Warm and caressing and even tender for awhile, but then it had turned just blue.

And sad and empty and _infinite_.

She can't be that cruel.

 _Can you forgive?_

She hears him muffles a breath, a _moan_ , against her neck.

The grip of his forearm burns around her waist.

She doesn't want to let him go.

 _Wendy, please._

Bu she's not that cruel.

 _Is_ she?

* * *

 _Can you forgive me?_

She's not sure what she's hearing or what she's imagining.

 _Can you forgive me?_

If it's all just a trick of her mind.

A trick of _his_.

 _Wendy, please._

 _Please._

* * *

 _Can you forgive me?_

Oh, _no,_ he doesn't ask for forgiveness, doesn't make amend for all of his sins.

No one ever saw the devil make amend for all of his sins, after all.

And he's _the_ Pan.

* * *

She cannot do it.

She cannot letting him think he'll have her, only to take it all away in the morning.

But that's what he's asking her, isn't it?

That's what he's always asked her.

They can have a night, _tonight_.

And then? Tomorrow? The future? _Their_ future?

There is no such thing in Neverland.

Peter Pan doesn't know of futures.

He doesn't have futures. And now, neither did she.

He only has nights and then a new morning.

And then another, and another and _another_.

And that's all she has now too.

But she still can't get used to it.

She can't give up. She can't give up her future.

She still hasn't.

* * *

 _Can't you forget it?_

Her arms almost shake as she gets away from his embrace. Peter's arms slide away from her, helplessly.

He looks up at her and there's confusion, tumult, hurt, loss, fear all at once in his eyes.

 _Can you forgive?_

Wendy stares back.

 _Can you forget?_

Her eyelashes flutter.

 _Can't you forget it?_

Her voice is husky but when she speaks, her answer is more clear than she's ever thought possible.

"No".

* * *

 **I wish I could write them sincerely happy for once. I really do.**

 **But this is how things always turn out… I don't know… maybe the next time?**

 **I hope you guys still enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!**


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